


Of Gods and Monsters

by RulerCfDeath



Category: AHS - Fandom, American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Basically my own view of Michael's life, Biblical Themes, Evil boy gets kinda soft, Michael gets kinda sad, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 18:35:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16247441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RulerCfDeath/pseuds/RulerCfDeath
Summary: Michael Langdon; known by some as the antichrist, others know him as just an average man with an ego so high it reached the skies.This story perceives Michael through the chaos of the apocalypse, and touches base on a more biblical approach of him and his powers.





	Of Gods and Monsters

In the bible, the name Michael was considered a holy and righteous one; a creature driven without sin nor lacking of virtuous acts. A creature that was deemed an angel, one rightfully sat beside God up in heaven, obeying each given order that happened to be directed and driven by the one and only Lord and Savior amongst men.

That was not what Michael was. Michael Langdon was that of which was born through an unvirtuous act between mortal and spirit, a true act of defilement behind the words of God. It was unnatural, and certainly frowned upon. That could have explained why so many found Michael to be a disgrace as he grew older; not many felt as though he was rightfully fit to live and walk amongst humanity, for many found his mere presence to be off putting and terrifying. His aura was nothing but a horrid feeling of pain and suffering, a vision of what was to come of him as age progressed. This child was nothing more than a sin built from pure stupidity and need, and with such carelessness to have taken place, it created a chain of reactions to be created through time. All leading up to the Rapture; the coming of the end of times. The biblically stated event that could result in the demise of millions of innocent lives. It was said this Rapture was to give those who had not allowed the holy father into their hearts a second chance at redemption, and those who had already seen and accepted, their peaceful release into his arms.

For Michael, this was a time of destruction, chaos. A time for him to create things for beneficial need, and destroy every which thing that lay present in his path of creating a new world of his own. He was the false prophet of this age, the one to speak of things that would inevitably test those who remained full of life after the destruction of the world. Most would call him the Antichrist, but some would call him their God. He was that of which consisted of evil, and true terror amongst the lives of men. Never did he fail to complete what he believed was right, and never did he dare get his hands dirty in the process. There were no speculations, no suspicious traces of what might have been led in his direction this way. He was fast, resilient, and furthermore a beast of unnatural sin.

But beyond the chaos of a demon, there lay a side of him not many managed to see. A young man, desperate to live life to its full extent. Filled with emotions, and true human likeness it caused many of the ongoing world to truly see no wrong through him. The battles between his vice and virtue were consistent, every decision made questioned through his mind on repeat. Days would be spent upon one single thought, debating to if these actions that would take place were acceptable for him; really, truly acceptable. Many of times, the darkness won, swallowing what little light shed over his thoughts. Each day he lost more of himself, and each day the darkness was completely consuming him. It was an inevitable cycle that continued to haunt over his every last breath, taking up to the moment he deemed the end of humanity. It was there, he found his full potency deep within the roots of his being; the seed that for had been planted and rooted finally bursting out in a cloud of hunger and starvation. The darkness within had been starved of it's full capacity for so long, that its need only grew with each ungodly act he committed in this new world of chaos.

 

It was, and always had been, Michael. He was the beginning of the end times, and a sought out prophecy that many felt terrorizing their hearts at consistent rates. There was not a small fraction of good inside of him that found itself shining through cracks in his form. No, Michael had buried these feelings and thoughts way beneath the surface of his character, making it hard for people to completely read his person. Nothing about this man was solid enough to grasp, and he certainly wasn't going to make it a plausible option for those who tried to reach within his interior. Though, sometimes the human in him would show, just at the wrong moments of his life. Moments he deemed to be necessary to block from ever thinking upon in his lifetime, ever again.

Michael was never one to accept being emotionally weak, or even emotional to begin with. He faked most of his feelings, and forced on an aura of mystery and hidden content. Never would anyone find what he truly was, unless they were like him. Neither man nor woman could see past those haunting cerulean and dead eyes, his gaze only causing a fear to stir within the containment of their stomach. For most, they could not ever seem to take their eyes off of him, for he was that of which pulled their curious minds. He was the one that grabbed attention, through negative or positive enforcements, he never posed a single care towards how he managed to grasp the eyes of others. In times before, he certainly did enjoy the tranquillity of being what was known as a shadow in scheme, but upon arrival of the nuclear apocalypse, Michael found the idea of being in the spotlight a perfect way to find his army; to lead those of weak minds against the will of God himself. He was a ruthless killer, the man to destroy it all.

This man had his heart in places that were correct, only part of the time. That is, protecting the ones he cared for, and there was not many of those to be seen around in his life. But once Michael found one acceptable to prosper alongside him, he would do whatever it took to see that they managed to successfully live with no sign of danger. The probability of Michael allowing them to perish in death was unlikely. Their protection was defined as a definite and necessary action that needed to be taken, and Michael would see to it that all things would be done so accordingly. Of course, he would never see to it that his own life would be put on the line, no. He was part mortal, after all. Dying wasn't quite apart of his plans, and nor would it ever be.

The selfish extent of his interior was immense, and day by day it grew into what would seem to be a monster that none had ever seen before. He was a complete source of chaos and destruction, one that those who knew just what he was capable of found themselves hidden away from view; their hopes of him never finding a piece of their remaining sanity being the only thing left on their minds. It was apparent that those in Outpost 3 knew nothing of who he was, except for one woman in particular, whom of which was too afraid of his power to act out against him. She wasn’t aware of his plans, and she didn’t need to be to know that if one was to dare even attempt to alter what he had in mind, they would soon find themselves forgotten and lost from existence. For none to know of his power, it made him feel like he had a sort of hold over those that resided within the Outpost. His power reigned sheer amounts of terror amongst the bunker, but for some odd reason, the chaos wasn’t as pleasing as it had been the times before. It almost was as if he found himself at a dry spell, his thirst unquenched but never satisfied. It was nice, yeah, but for the Antichrist, he hadn’t found his actions to be acceptable enough. For, he turned one against another, pitting these fools to do, by any means necessary, things of such haunting nature, just to have a belief that they might possibly have a chance to receive a spot with him in his sanctuary. Just as in the other bunkers, though, Michael did not deem any of them worthy enough to come alongside him.

In the bunkers before, his chaos reigned as per usual, his quests narrating a mission with no success in the works. None of the humans that had survived the blasts were redeeming for his new world filled with nothing but sheer chaos and fire, and truly it did put a dent within his plans. He wanted those of which had a sort of energy to them, an aura that proceeded to scrape itself as dark and defiling. Something that made even him quirk up with a sort of curiosity. Finding those kinds of people seemed to be a fruitless act for one such as himself, and by a few Outposts, he truly had began to deem his search to be a waste of his precious time. He thought to himself, ‘Why continue to search for that of which I will never gain?’ as he neared Outpost 3. As he set himself inside the barriers of the bunker which had once resided the lives of many teachers he had learned from, the energy that once resided there felt all too different. There was something within those walls underground that screamed with a sort of power, and it instantly had caught his attention. Never in any of the other bunkers had he managed to capture such a strong presence; one that specifically called out to him. It called out with such a harsh yell, it truly startled him, which was quite a difficult thing to do.

His search for the presence had quickly become a failed and fruitless attempt, the girl denying him and his offers of good fortune and health down the line. It caused an impeccable rage to rise, his blood boiling over being denied with such a forceful no. It wasn’t the idea of him not now having her alongside him that set him off, no. The fact that he had been denied, had been told no. For that was something he didn’t take too well, only for situations as the given. He saw it as one of instances where someone was giving you the choice of living, instead of dying, the exact sort of scenario that the two had been found in. It wasn’t often that Michael offered such wonders to someone, and for her to deny freedoms and a prosperous life, it put him on edge. Not to mention the fact that her powers had indeed startled him quite a bit. He had known she would be powerful, and more than likely unknowing to her strengths, but he certainly had not expected that amount of power from her.

As he neared the end of his interviews of the day, he felt time dragging him to lust for nothing but a peaceful slumber. Which, was of course what he was going to get by any means necessary. He might have been the antichrist, but a part of him still remained human, which meant basic human needs were a necessity to his survival, no matter how much of a bother they tended to be. The more he cared for himself, the lass work on his plans he could make; which was a hassle and annoyance for him in every way and sense.

With his day now relaxed and left to only himself and the silence around, Michael sat upon his unmade bed, the sheets and other blankets laying in a pile nearby where he had himself sat. His laptop laid in front of him, eyes locked against the lit up screen as he scrolled through his emails, only reading things over and over with a rather bored and annoyed sigh. 

It was in this moment that Michael managed to capture a quick glance over one email in specific. The subject line read simple, stating things that immediately jabbed roughly at his heart. Thoughts of times before the war began to stream in his brain, moments flooding his mental images at a rate that it seemed to cause the room to spin. His heart pounded against his chest, hands shaking and balling into fists; that soon had fingers digging into skin, ripping at the flesh enough to draw trace amounts of blood. With his emotions drawn out like this, his control to keep any and all of his powers at bay would prove a fruitless attempt, and it would only cause these emotions to rise at rapid rates. Eyes began to swell with tears, a single one having already found its way down his cheeks. He continued to scan over the subject line, disbelief rummaging through him.

Meade’s death still, to that exact day, haunted him. He refused to truly believe it had become a reality, his denial being the one thing that inhibited him from ever quite moving on from it. Though the robotic made version of her existed, it just didn’t feel as if she was good enough. Michael hadn’t been loved by many growing up, but Meade was always there, and he remembered that. For her to have left him behind, it made Michael feel alone; abandoned. As his emotions had not truly developed alongside his stunted growth, the Antichrist was still quite emotionally vulnerable and it was what made him a bit more unstable than he would have liked to be.

The email managed to cause a burst of melancholic memories, forcing him to quietly sit in his spot, frozen and unable to react in any way beyond silently releasing tears. His eyes were glossy, those crystalized hues peering at the screen with a hatred, a sadness, and a longing. All he had ever wanted was to have her here, physically here as her own being, not some android, but for him that was all he had left.

When he finally managed to gain his composure, he slammed the laptop shut, curling his knees up towards his chest. This was the side nobody saw from Michael. The Antichrist in a weak; in a broken up state that caused his vulnerability to further rise as he sat alone in the dimly lit room. Never had he made himself look this pitiful since the day the Warlocks had found him. He was, after all, still a human; just happened to be a human with a demonic side to his form.

Every one saw Michael as an egotistical evil genius; a man made of mysteries and confusing conversation. Someone that others needed to get approval from him to even breathe the same air as him. He was that of what was made to be evil, but in most senses, Michael was still a human. All the emotions one might feel, he felt; but would never expose these to others. Michael hated to feel weak and looked down upon. As the Antichrist and a powerful leader, he had an image he needed to produce to the masses, and he would sooner be dead than allow any bit of his true self be shown out amongst the crowds. The single one thing he wanted to remain was a mystery to those who did not know of who he truly was, for this was a tactic to keep those consistently guessing to who he might have exactly been.

Michael was the Antichrist; a child conceived through that of which was absolute sin. Fornication between that of a mortal living being, and that of a spirit of malevolence. He was the beginning of the end, and the end of the beginning; the one to bring forth the Rapture, trying to lead those left behind in life to a personalized form of Hell on earth. Never once had he strayed away from his path, and his plans were left written in stone.

He was the man of many mysteries, and he hoped to continue forevermore to remain that way; that is, until the day he found success in leading those alive astray from the words of God.


End file.
